


Power and Control

by klismaphilia, mechayourown



Category: Town of Salem (Video Game)
Genre: Angry Sex, M/M, Roleplay, Smut, Taxi Cab, love-hate relationship, mutual annoyance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 06:30:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4252965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klismaphilia/pseuds/klismaphilia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechayourown/pseuds/mechayourown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You don't have any objections, right?" Town of Salem oneshot, Arsonist x Transporter. Cowritten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Power and Control

**Author's Note:**

> this started as more of a roleplay thing...eh, it was a blast, i'll admit.  
> for the record, Mech is Arso and I am Trans xD

His job had always required some persuasion, fast acting words that would be able to gain him a passenger quickly and harmlessly- this particular man didn't seem too fond of his work. Average height, red hair, sea blue eyes, a scattering of freckles over solid cheekbones- it was a surprise that the transporter wasn't familiar with this man, having never seen him before in his twenty-eight years of existence. He let out a small laugh, smiling to the stranger as he spoke.

"Come on, man. Let me hitch you up. It's not safe out here at night." His fingers braced themselves on the steering wheel, still waiting for an answer from the stranger- whom he'd had a hunch on, not wanting to mention that he knew the likelihood of his place in the town with a single sniff of the air. They both smelled like gas; and of course he was the only transporter around here.

The man reluctantly opened the door to the backseat, a grin from the transporter keeping his mouth shut, for the time being, allowing him to take a better look at his guest, that pale skin, hair slightly mussed by the wind, fiddling with something in his pocket. Matches, perhaps? He knew better than to leave an arsonist unattended; with any luck, he'd eventually be able to slip the man into a house he'd already doused. Having a silver-tongue was often a good thing- especially in Salem.

Of course, then again, there were certainly more fun things to do with a passenger of this caliber.

"So, where we headed?" The transporter questioned, eyes sparkling with mischief as he glanced through the rear view mirror at the arsonist in the backseat, sitting with his arms folded.

The arsonist sighed, debating mentally whether to respond or not. He didn't like having his normal routine interrupted and he didn't someone taking him away because it "wasn't safe". Wasn't safe his ass- he'd be able to fight back against anyone who tried to attack him. There was no way he'd die at night.  
He didn't need to be moved. Now, he was at risk of wasting this perfectly good night. Fucking transporter. He couldn't even tell who they were; it was a bit too dark for him to see the face of the driver.

"Just… wherever," the arsonist grumbled, crossing his arms before leaning back into his seat. At least the car smelled nice, he noted. He always felt more comfortable around gasoline. It just relaxed him, then it excited him when it suddenly burst into flames and seemed to engulf the entire house-!

But that didn't mean the arsonist enjoyed setting people on fire. Just the ones that annoyed him. Town, mafia, civilian… He'd burn the annoying or bratty ones without a second thought. If he ever found the transporter, maybe he'd burn him, too. Make him ignite with the same gasoline that runs his car…

"Well then," the transporter said mischievously, flaring the engine, before he began to make a wide turn on the street. "I think I'd prefer something a little more...out of the way." He was glad for the darkness of the night, glad that the arsonist wasn't able to make out his face in it, glad that it made his voice more husky, still flicking his gaze up to his passenger every so often.

He raised an eyebrow at the sullen look on the man's face, aware that the other wouldn't be able to make it out, but still mentally pleased with the annoyed look on the man's face. "So...live around here? Take walks with a fuel canister and matches very often?" Internally, he could've laughed at the expression on the aforementioned arsonist's face, but he found it best to keep his mouth shut, lips pursed in a tiny grin. "Come on, it's only small talk." The transporter added, the arsonist thoroughly annoyed.

He noted that they were almost out to the cemetery; nothing there that the arsonist could burn, nothing that he could destroy. There was something about the man that had always fascinated the transporter- he'd always wondered what it would be like to hold a flame such as the arsonist in the very same taxi that he practically lived in. None too easily, of course, their personalities were bound to clash at some point.

That bastard-! He fucking knew. Of course he'd know. Just like the taxi was drenched with the smell of gasoline, the arsonist had it at his fingertips along with ash and matches. Matches, of which, he had with him.

The arsonist didn't mind getting a bit burned. All he has to do was place a few lit matches, a carefully planned trail of gasoline, and he'd be able to set the car up in flames and probably escape without the brunt of it. The transporter would be gone. Done, easy.

Yet… the man was right there, concealing his face, but the arsonist could hear the smile that he talked with and it pissed him off. He should be terrified of fire, but rather, the transporter found it amusing that the arsonist was in his back seat, being carted off to who knows where.

And he wanted to make small talk. Who the hell liked making small talk?

The arsonist let out a short, bitter laugh before nodding. "Fuel and matches are my thing," he said, a response just for the sake of shutting the transporter up. Which, in all honesty, wasn't a good idea — maybe the arsonist just wanted another shot at figuring out who the transporter was so he could enjoy burning him twice as much.

The reply caused the transporter to chuckle a little, itching to reply with an 'of course they are.' He didn't figure it was a great idea though- the arsonist was clearly none too pleased already, and the fact that he could, in fact, be lit up at any moment played on repeat in the back of his mind.

The rational side of the transporter was telling him not to speak, but the words slipped his lips anyway. "I've noticed. Quite a fan of your handiwork, for the record- but is it true what they say? That arsonists only do it for the obsession they have, some tragic backstory...their lack of amiability, inability to keep a relationship...?" he trailed off, glancing at the arsonist who didn't seem eager to reply. "I could go on," he added, stopping the taxi along the side of the road next to the graveyard.

He wouldn't say he exactly admired the burning glow of those piercing blue eyes- although they were definitely smoking, just like the rest of him. (The transporter amused himself- what puns.) He gave a quick nod of his head to the cemetery outside and with a smile, questioned the arsonist. "Would you like to get out? Or are you suddenly more comfortable?"

The glare the arsonist gave him only furthered his humor.

A cemetery? What good was the arsonist if he was at a- oh. The transporter was keeping an eye on him, most likely. Making sure he wouldn't douse anyone. Pity. He had wanted to douse the annoying farmer a few streets away who always tried to sell his rotten apples. His small field would've looked great covered in flames…

Still glaring, the arsonist got out of the taxi and shut the door heavily behind him. "For your information, I don't have a tragic backstory and I'm not incapable of relationships." It was true, even if the arsonist tended to only do one-night stands. He didn't like relationships. Emotions just… weren't his thing when it came to people. He felt true joy by watching things burn. Usually.

The arsonist also kinda liked cats.

It wasn't an obsession, but rather a hobby. Much like the transporter enjoyed carting away working people and forcing them to go somewhere else "for their own protection".  
The arsonist hated how the transporter only found amusement in his annoyance. He just kept smirking or grinning, acting all charismatic without a care in the world. What right did he have to torment him? The arsonist was the one in control, the one with the flames. One little spark could ignite the transporter.

The arsonist blinked for a moment, then glanced back at the taxi. He’d left his fuel tank in there. Glancing back, he saw that the transporter was grinning, lightly laughing at him. There wasn't a way he'd be able to grab his fuel tank.

Fuck the trans.

The transporter wiggled his eyebrows, only hoping that the arsonist would see it. Of course, the latter was too involved in his own emotional distress at being stuck in the middle of a cemetery, nothing but dirt and headstones around him, to notice anything other than his own rage.

The arsonist kept glancing back at his taxi, face livid and red, clearly enraged. It almost seemed as though he were about to fly off the handle at the slightest remark; the transporter wasn't going to press his luck. He gave a grin, almost tauntingly, to the red-haired man, before rolling up the window of the cab, and revving the engine.

There was a tap on the side of his window, the glass rolling down quickly again as he stared up at the arsonist, blue eyes practically boring holes into his dark ones. There were so many things he could've said- could've pressed his luck and tried to infuriate the young man even further- he simply grinned, almost jokingly. "How you doin?"

Without wasting a moment, the arsonist said, "I left something in your car." It was somewhat humiliating to say, but the arsonist needed his fuel tank. That way, he'd be able to at least do something that night. He wasn't fully aware how to get to Farmer Joe's place from the graveyard, but he'd be able to at least play with some flames.

As ironic as it was, the flames cooled him down. Calmed him. It may have just been the fact that they were uncontrollable, possibly lashing out to kill him with one mistake, but they were fragile and weakened by many things.

Without his flames, it was likely he'd go insane.

That, and he liked his fuel tank. It was new and shiny.

"What would you be willing to do to get it back?" The transporter asked, face completely stony, before a laugh suddenly bubbled up from his throat at the sheer disbelief written on the arsonist's face. He popped the locks, motioning with a finger. "Get back in, man. It's been long enough anyway." And it really had- it was a night entirely wasted for the arsonist, the clock quickly approaching two in the morning. The arsonist's eyebrow raised, before he opened the door again.

The transporter shook his head, completely satisfied by the way he'd been messing with the arsonist; the other was like putty in his thin, dark hands, completely emotional, lacking much barrier for dealing with this sort of thing.

He admired the arsonist's devotion- of all things, it was probably the only thing that had kept the transporter from simply calling the sheriff and requesting the other man's arrest. The arsonist was too volatile, too...fun. Too fiery (there he was, doing it again.) He turned around in the seat, extending a hand to the arsonist. "I've never properly introduced myself. I'm the transporter, if that wasn't obvious. I know you've been trying to look at my face ever since you got in here- just too sexy to take your eyes off, yeah?"

The arsonist did not take kindly to the teasing. Why? No clue. He could feel how the transporter kept messing with him (and knew he was enjoying every second of it)- and he hated how it was himself that was receiving the brunt of the taunts.

The transporter was a cocky, flirty little shit who seemed to think that he had control over everything. If it was a battle of control… well, you're not supposed to play with fire, right?

And damn — the transporter was really nice looking. Gentle locks of hair, eyes that seemed to glow in the pale lighting, really nice skin… It was one of the few appearances the arsonist would've hated to burn and ruin.

In all reality… if the transporter was that nice looking and thought he could play around with him, he had another think coming.

The arsonist smirked. "Considering this is the first time I get to see your smoking hot face, then it's safe to assume the only reason I was trying to see it was so I could burn it off. Make it even hotter."

The transporter noted that the arsonist's voice was smooth, taunting- almost as though he were trying to prove to the transporter that he was the one in control, that he was the one with the power.

The transporter was going to give him something else to think about.

"You just can't control it, can you? Those pyromaniac urges...or whatever you get. Well, no matter." The transporter flipped back his hair, turning around and opening his door, slipping out into the cold before sliding in next to the arsonist in the backseat. "If you like fire so much...you wouldn't object to heating up the night together, would you?"

The transporter trailed his fingers down the arsonist's arm, dark skin a great contrast to the other's light, leaning forward to place a soft kiss to the firebug's ear. "I mean...if you're going to incinerate me anyway..." he whispered, voice husky, "Surely there's nothing for you to object to?"

The arsonist called up a smirk, staring into the transporter's eyes with a fiery determination. "Heating up the night would be a wonderful idea." There wasn't any way he'd let himself be bested by this. "If my urges just get to be too much to control... I'm known to set things on fire. You positive you're ready to burn?" Because the moment the night was over, the moment the next one came, this man would find his house doused in fuel, his taxi in flames, and his own perfect fucking face being kept on the sidelines, forced to watch.

If it meant the arsonist had to fuck him, so be it. Besides, it was already getting kind of warm in the taxi, and the flirting was making him just a tad bit excited. It wouldn’t be long until the transporter was turned over the seat and made a screamer.

"There's absolutely nothing to object to," the arsonist chimed, his breath coming out a bit more shaky than he had thought possible.

The arsonist’s voiced was laced with that cocky tilt that made the transporter feel a little bit hot under the collar. He wasn't exactly sure what he'd been anticipating when he decided to start flirting with the pyromaniac- maybe he'd just wanted to play around a bit, snarky voice trying to infuriate the arsonist even more, but...he hadn't exactly expected the man to start flirting back.

The transporter swallowed, feeling as though he were losing control of what he'd started of his own accord, before replastering the self-assured smirk on his perfect lips, swinging one leg over the arsonist's as he turned, sitting on the arsonist's lap, taking the handsome and angular face between his hands, grinning down at him as he stated, simply, "Hot."

He leaned in, tongue slipping through the arsonist's lips, forcing the other to swallow as the transporter attempted to overtake him, nipping at the corners of his lips, sucking on the other man's tongue, finding him to taste of ash and chapstick- the arsonist's lips were oh-so soft, considering all things. The transporter pulled back, licking his lips, amused.

"Just remember you're in my taxi," he said bluntly. "And I'm making the rules here." He watched as the arsonist's expression darkened, before he found himself grabbed, forced back against the cushions with more strength than he'd expected. The transporter’s back hit the leather seat with a light thud and he raised an eyebrow, chuckling. "A bit mad, hmm?"

"Fuming," the arsonist replied, leering down at the transporter underneath him. The transporter might've thought he could make the rules, control him and the outcome, but the fact of the matter was that the arsonist wouldn't let anyone control him. He'd burn himself before that happened (well, maybe - he didn't exactly want to die, so he'd probably just burn the controlling party instead).

The arsonist bent down further, connecting their lips again, but he refused to give the transporter a chance. He dominated the other's mouth with his tongue, moving it skillfully and trying to drag out a heated reaction. Burn the place up. Increase the heat. Teeth nipped at the transporter's bottom lip, returning exactly the favor that had been done to him. The arsonist didn't kiss all too often, mainly because he never found it needed to make that sort of heat- but there was something about kissing, making out with a complete stranger, in the back of a taxi.

He pulled away, smirking down at the transporter with an air of confidence. "I've broken rules before, so don't you think for a second I'm going to follow yours."

The transporter squirmed, trying to force the arsonist's hand away from his chest, away from his wrists. This fucker...thought he could honestly hold something- anything- over his head? He better think again, the transporter thought, wedging a knee between the other's legs, rubbing the arsonist's crotch with it as he eventually stopped struggling. His hand grappled for the arsonist's wrist, catching it and pulling the other in suddenly, the arsonist's eyes wide for a few brief seconds.

The arsonist was clearly unsuspecting of the move, letting out a slight groan that he quickly glared at the transporter for, suddenly pressed much closer to the other man than he'd realized. Obviously he didn't like giving into anything- much less a power play like the one the transporter had set up.

He took the chance to press his face against the crook of the arsonist's shoulder, lips moving to suck on the pale skin of the man's flawless neck, biting down on the edge of his collarbone with enough force to redden the skin, his tongue licking at the mark fervently, knee continuing to press against the growing bulge in the arsonist's pants.

"Just try it," the transporter snapped.

It had been going so well- and then he’d dropped the offense for a second. It was enough time for the transporter to flip the tables, bringing more heat to the arsonist than was actually fully desired (since he couldn't control it.) The groan that escaped him had been from a haze, one that he was still, in all honesty, trying to force himself to recover from. He wouldn't talk because he knew there was a chance his words would be slurred or another groan would escape, something that wasn't supposed to happen in the first place, much less again.

The arsonist could feel the hickey forming, feel as the transporter pressed his knee in harder, urging him to slip into the submissive page but that wasn't going to happen -!  
He moaned again when the transporter nipped at his skin. The pleasure was hard to ignore as he subconsciously pressed back against the knee, seeking friction to take care of the problem.

Forcing himself to gather a bit more control, the arsonist released one of the transporters hands and reached down to grab his crotch, rubbing into it himself. Twisting his head just a bit, he was able to lightly latch his teeth onto the transporter's ear and pull on it, moving his lips along the jawline.

The transporter grinned at the arsonist's obvious nature, the way he was trying to force the transporter onto the defensive, trying to throw any control the other man might have had out the window, trying to force him to submit...

He felt the arsonist's hand slipping lower, palming his crotch, thumb teasing as his fingers rubbed the growing bulge in the transporter's pants, teeth grazing the side of his ear, before his mouth slipped along the transporter's jaw, trailing over the smooth skin before a bit of tongue was added to the mixture. The hand on his crotch squeezed, and the transporter's mind blanked- if control was what the man wanted, he might as well make him think he had it.

The transporter's hand slipped around the arsonist's back as his hips bucked upward into the arsonist's hand, allowing a long, gratuitous moan to slip free from his lips. His other leg wrapped itself around the arsonist's waist, his head tilting back to expose his neck and beautifully dark collarbone as he pressed himself further against the arsonist, back arching.

He felt the arsonist's hand slip past his waistband, thumbing the tip of his cock, drawing another moan from the transporter as the arsonist allowed himself to relax, confident in his control. That was all he needed. The transporter slipped free from the arsonist's grip, gaining enough space to sit up as he forced the arsonist back against the seat, smiling at the befuddled look on the other's face. "Oh...thought you had me, did you?"

"Sneaky fucker-ah-" the arsonist cursed, not getting much more out before the transporter eagerly returned what he had been doing to him. He couldn't react before the hand was down his pants, grabbing his cock, toying and teasing it. He gave a small whine, attempting to fight back but the feeling was clouding his mind rapidly. Just more touch, more movement, and he knew that his small fraction of control would be handed over to the transporter.

But apparently, the transporter knew exactly how to play the control game. The arsonist tried to reach down to get the hand away, but the other gas fanatic had latched his lips onto his neck again, pulling at the skin. The same area of his collarbone received more attention.

One rough stroke made the arsonist buck and moan embarrassingly, the attempts to control or dominate the transporter slipping through his fingers from a simple hand job. He closed his eyes and looked away, though the rest of his body had already surrendered to the gentle abuse to his cock and the teasing on his collarbone.

He would definitely make the transporter burn. Screw his pretty fucking face, it would be nothing but a slab of burnt, scarred skin. The taxi would be set on fire and buried far away so no one could ever learn that some way, somehow, he was becoming fucking submissive to someone like the transporter.

The transporter couldn't help the wicked laugh that escaped his lips as the arsonist began to arch into his touch, fingers grasping his length, stroking in long, teasing motions as the transporter suckled on the arsonist's collarbone. He could watch as the other's eyes shut tightly, whimpered groans leaving swollen lips as the transporter removed his hand suddenly, a disappointed groan from the arsonist as he tugged down his own pants.

With a kiss placed to the arsonist's bruising lips, he pulled back, a wide smirk playing on his subtle features as he unbuckled the arsonist's pants, eyes slightly wider as he took in just how large the other was, before a small chuckle broke free. "I can see why you like the control." He pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his trousers, opening it to slather lube onto the other's cock, raising an eyebrow at the arsonist's sudden shock.

"Oh? Not what you expected?" The transporter asked, leaning in again to press kisses to the arsonist's cheeks, steadying himself over the other. "Fuck me," he said, tugging the other in by the collar of his shirt. "And you better make it worth my time."

The arsonist blinked for a moment before smirking, finding himself okay with this arrangement. It wasn't… desired, but it was much better than what he had anticipated the transporter to do.

He trailed his hands up under the transporter's shirt, slowly lifting it up to expose his chest. It was more toned than he’d expected (he was a cab driver, after all), but the arsonist held no complaints as his hands traveled around the other’s slim waist.

He could fuck anyone in any position. They usually ended up screaming underneath him, begging - even if he wasn't looming over the transporter in this act of fuckery, the transporter would be sore for weeks and searching for him long afterwards to beg for more.

"Okay," the arsonist replied, shifting his position a smudge so that he was directly under the transporter's hole. There wasn't much warning, nothing other than a slight tickle, before he moved his ass up and lightly penetrated the transporter.

There was no instant shove - hurting him wasn't exactly on his mind, even if the little bit that was in seemed to have entered into a form of euphoria.

The transporter closed his eyes as he felt the arsonist pressing himself forward, hands digging into his ribs sharply, nails likely to leave marks against the skin of his chest. His legs rested rather uselessly on either side of the arsonist's hips, grinding himself down against the other with a tiny moan as the younger was fully sheathed inside his throbbing body.

"Fucking move," the transporter groaned, one hand threading in the arsonist's hair, lips parted slightly as he rested his head against the other's shoulder, before snapping. "Do I have to tell you twice?" In a rapid movement he shoved his hips forward, the arsonist buried deeper in his body as he licked a stripe over the side of the pyromaniac's face, the arsonist's body arching as the transporter rolled, chest pressing against that of his companion as his neck tipped back, akin to the motion of an animal.

The man shifted, achingly trying to rut against the arsonist, feeling the other grin against his neck, heartbeat pulsing out of control as the arsonist slammed himself forward, causing the transporter to rake nails across his back, thrusting himself onto the arsonist more urgently, feeling stretched out as he breathed quickly, a loud moan slipping from his mouth.

Rough, eh? The arsonist thrusted upward again, continuously getting deeper into the transporter. Each of his thrusts brought a moan to the form above him, earning positive response, and the arsonist couldn't help but groan with him.

Whenever the transporter tried to rut in for a deeper hit, or rolled against him in a way that made the arsonist see stars, the arsonist pushed back with heated lust. The pain from the transporter's nails and the general atmosphere was beginning to go to the arsonist's head to the point he didn't give a fuck about their positions, who he was having sex with, or the reason behind it- it was furious, passionate, and just overall burning.

He could feel the transporter's skyrocketing heartbeat. His own was speeding up with the intensity, not matching the pace of the other's, but rather a frantic, amazing beat that was akin to what he felt when he ignited something huge.

He pushed forward roughly, being completely and totally swallowed, a synced moan coming from both of them at the perfect hit. The arsonist held onto the transporter's hips as he moved, assisting until their pace matched and each thrust engulfed his cock fully and pounded against the transporter's prostate with complete accuracy.

The transporter's eyes rolled back, breath hitching in his throat as the arsonist hit something inside of him that caused his vision to go completely white, toes curling as he pulled the arsonist closer. His legs were trembling, back arching as he pulled the arsonist closer, feeling the heat of the other's breath on his neck.

With a rapid sense of ecstasy, he could feel the arsonist penetrating him deeper and deeper with every thrust, hands shaking on his hipbones as his walls clenched, body grinding down against the arsonist's pelvis for more. A shout was ripped from his throat as the arsonist's movements became more rapid, brutally tearing him open further and further. The arsonist's teeth were against the side of his neck, his body trembling in sheer force from the subjective pleasure.

He found himself clinging to the arsonist for dear life as each sharp thrust was punctuated by static vision and blinding light as he felt the other man driving him further and further toward his breaking point. The transporter's hands fisted in the arsonist's shirt, nails still scrabbling against his back as he was forced over the edge. A single, hot thrust and he felt a pleasure he'd rarely felt before in his life, his body clenching in every place as he came with a cry, searing white pressure slipping from his eyelids along with his orgasm. He felt the arsonist drive himself deeper into his body (if that was even possible) and in seconds there came the foreign sensation of being filled to the brim by his partner, not nearly as disgusted as he would have been had the partner been someone less…charming.

He glanced into the arsonist's ice blue eyes, hands still tightly clutching the other's back, waiting for him to say something- anything.

The arsonist was silent for a moment, letting himself relax for a second before he glanced at the transporter with a completely serious expression. 

"I officially despise you." 

The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, just enough to let the other know that it was only half-assed. 

"You have succeeded in what only escorts have done before," the arsonist mentioned, rolling his eyes and pushing himself onto his elbows. "You prevented me from setting someone on fire: the annoying farmer from a couple streets away. Now the town has to put up with him trying to sell overpriced rotten food for another night." 

The arsonist didn't quite know why, but after that amazing round of sex, the transporter was just a tad more acceptable. Nowhere near relationship quality (for fuck’s sake, no one who tried to dominate him could ever be in an actual fucking relationship), but he'd be okay with another fuck. Probably. 

Probably. He might actually douse the guy just to prove a point. 

Maybe.

The transporter smacked the arsonist's shoulder playfully, able to detect the half-assed tone of his voice, those slightly curved lips, as he pulled away from the other, lying back against the seat with dark hair sticking to his forehead, his lips still swollen and worried by teeth. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't fucking believe that he'd just had sex with the arsonist- of all people.

"You can douse him tomorrow night," the transporter said, still clearly amused, but too tired to backsass his companion any further. He slumped over to the side, head pressing against the arsonist's side, evidently pleased when the man didn't shove him away as he'd expected. He prodded the arsonist's face with a finger to gain his attention, grinning as the man glanced down at him, no hint of irritation on his face for once. "You should get used to nights with me, for the record. There'll be a lot more."

So the transporter isn't a goody-goody. That was good to know, as it meant the arsonist wasn't about to be handed over to the sheriff. For some reason, the last thing the transporter said brought relief to him- but it was from the fact he could still walk around like a free man. Probably. Most likely. After all, it wasn't that he actually had enjoyed that night enough to desire more… 

…Ah, who was he kidding? He'd fuck the transporter again at any given chance. 

The arsonist found himself relaxing, cuddled up with the transporter in a somewhat awkward position on the seats. He didn't complain at all and instead lifted his hand to thread through the transporter's hair. Soft… 

"I don't think I would mind if you ever saw fit to transport me," he chimed, smirking lightly. "The heat from this was fantastic. Just don't get too cocky- I'm never letting you get the upper hand again."

The transporter had a few rude remarks, or sassy comebacks locked in his head to reply to such a comment, but he thought the better of it, instead opting just to lie next to the arsonist, ear pressed to the side of his chest where he could hear the other's heart beating- slowly now, nothing akin to the rapid pulsing he'd been gifted before. If it were any other day, he might have pressed it, gone further...now the transporter just sat up, opening the door to climb out, before repositioning himself in the front seat.

"Maybe another time," he chimed. "And you only wish."


End file.
